At 6 a.m. on Sept. 5, 2025, Owen Akhibi Herrera realized his side hustle was in trouble.
The 27-year-old founder of Peak and Pace, a New York City-based social fitness group that began as a free run club, had spent weeks organizing a 5K and after-party on Governor's Island, the former military base off the tip of Manhattan that can only be reached by water. He and his team had loaded 18 trucks with supplies and were preparing to ferry them across when the morning's first crisis hit: the boat broke down, leaving the vehicles stranded on Wall Street in the heart of the city's financial district.
For Akhibi, the problem was not just logistical. With 2,000 ticket holders expecting to show up, he faced the possibility of refunding the event and absorbing a major financial hit. He spent hours on the phone with Governor's Island officials, he said, working to salvage the day. Eventually, another boat was secured, and the final shipment of inventory — including about 30 port-a-potties — arrived just as the first guests were stepping onto the island.
By the end of the day, the stress had given way to a sense of vindication. Akhibi said he watched one 25-year-old participant place a medal around the neck of an older runner at the finish line, a small moment that captured the appeal of the community he had built: intergenerational, social and rooted in something as simple as running.
That sense of purpose has also become a business. Akhibi launched Peak and Pace in July 2024 while still working in algorithmic trading sales at J.P. Morgan, initially as a way to meet new people after moving to New York from London. Like many Gen Z transplants to major cities, he was looking for a social circle beyond nightlife. The run club gave him that, and he soon saw an opportunity to turn it into something larger.
Running with Peak and Pace is always free, Akhibi said, but the company's larger events — parties, hikes, ski trips and other social gatherings — typically carry ticket prices of $15 to $25. Those paid events have become the engine of the business. According to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It, Peak and Pace generated more than $640,000 in revenue in 2025, almost entirely from those ticketed gatherings.
The company is not a pure profit machine. Some events lose money, Akhibi said, but the business as a whole operates at about a 15% profit margin. He reinvests those profits back into the brand rather than paying himself a second salary. That decision reflects both ambition and restraint: Peak and Pace is still a side hustle, but one that now demands the discipline of a full-scale operation.
The growth has been rapid. Akhibi said attendance rose to roughly 150 runners by the club's fifth session, after which he hosted a party in a Manhattan bar that cost about $20 per participant. As the runs became more popular, the parties expanded too, adding DJs and food vendors to justify the ticket price. The concept eventually broadened beyond the city, with hiking and ski trips added to the calendar.
The timing has been favorable. Run clubs have exploded in popularity, especially among younger adults seeking low-cost, low-pressure ways to make friends. Akhibi acknowledged that the category is crowded, with at least 200 run clubs in New York alone. But the broader market has been growing as well: participation in run clubs rose nearly 60% globally in 2024, according to the most recent publicly available data from Strava, the run-tracking app.
That trend has helped make social fitness a business opportunity, not just a lifestyle. For Gen Z adults moving to new cities for work, the appeal is obvious: a built-in community, a recurring schedule and an activity that feels healthier and less transactional than a bar tab. Peak and Pace has leaned into that demand by pairing free runs with paid experiences that create a sense of belonging while also generating revenue.
The work, however, has been punishing. Akhibi said the club gradually began to feel like a second full-time job. While building Peak and Pace, he was also expected to perform at a high level in his day job. He later moved into a full-time role as head of partnerships at Grounded Superintelligence, a San Francisco-based AI robotics lab, but said the period of juggling both responsibilities meant working 18-hour days for about a year.
That grind underscores the paradox of the modern side hustle: what begins as a personal project can quickly become a business with real operational risk, staffing demands and financial stakes. On Governor's Island, that risk was on display in the form of broken boats, stranded trucks and a race against time to keep 2,000 customers from walking away disappointed.
Yet the event also showed why Peak and Pace has resonated. For Akhibi, the value of the business is not just in the revenue, but in the scenes it produces — like a younger runner honoring an older one at the finish line. In a city where social connection can be fleeting and expensive, he has turned a free run club into a profitable platform for community, and in the process built one of New York's more unusual and unexpectedly lucrative young businesses.